


The Salesman

by cattlaydee



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, M/M, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sexting, Stranger Sex, Strangers to Lovers, this is highly unlikely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 20:56:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11676939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattlaydee/pseuds/cattlaydee
Summary: Alex sends a sext that doesn't end up where he wanted.Or does it?Inspired bythis poston tumblr





	The Salesman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aidennestorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidennestorm/gifts).



> Found this in my drafts and needed some whamilton practice SO. This is literally the most cliched, cheesy porn movie plot line i’ve ever written and it is 100% ridiculous, predictable and absolutely would never happen in real life. 
> 
> Gifting to aidennestorm for some beta help (not on this; this is unbeta'd so apologies for any mistakes) and just her general awesomeness as a person.
> 
> Enjoy.

Alex Hamilton knows when he pulls up that he’s not exactly their target demographic.

His busted Honda Civic slides into the parking looking wildly out of place. The tan paint job is flecked with dents and chips, and there’s rust on the arch of the wagon wheel. What was an amazing deal at 20 with around 40,000 miles has gotten him to 30 with little more than regular maintenance. He’d joked with John’s dad that he was gonna run the wheels off of it, but he wondered if the man had known how serious he was. From undergrad through law school and then some, old reliable has gotten him where he’s needed to go.

It makes a noise as he turns it off and he sighs, running his hand over his tied back hair. Though his car may stick out awkwardly, he’s hoping he won’t too much. He’s sporting a button down and black slacks, and he glances at the Bulova on his wrist to see the time. He flips his keys. Should be fine.

He gets out and isn’t surprised to find there’s no one swarming him, as would be customary at most dealerships. No, Lexus is different—you come to them. That’s fine too. He heads to the main building, glass from floor to ceiling to show off the roadsters inside that gleam under the showroom lights.

There’s not too many people around. He came today for that reason. He walks to the main counter and he leans against it, waiting. Someone’s sure to show up, but he lets himself gaze around at the cars there. One is a slick looking SUV, but he’s not really in the market for that. No, he’s in the mood for something a little lower to the ground, but with four doors so he has some room in the backseat in case he needs to move something reasonable. He can borrow Herc’s pickup for anything more than that.

He ends up in front of a small sedan, its’ impeccable navy paint job glittering under the bright lights of the show room. He’s practically caressing it when a voice comes from behind him, causing him to jump a little where he stands before he freezes.

“Is there something I can help you with sir?”

There’s a soft lilt to the voice. It’s smooth and warm, rich and deep, a perfect tone for wooing potential buyers. Alexander sighs, and turns slowly, head bent toward his chest as he leans against the car and looks up with a bashful smile.

“I’m sorry, i didn't mean to get handsy, it’s just….” His words trail off as he takes in the tall, wide stature of the man in front of him, obviously well muscled and solid, wearing the genial smile of a salesman. Alexander feels his breath catch before he continues. “Beautiful.”

“Isn’t it though?” The man extends an arm in a very showy sort of way and steps around Alexander, sidling up next to the passenger door. He stuffs his left hand in his pocket and rests a forearm so he leans on the curve of it's roof. "Would you be interested in any other model, or did you have something more specific in mind?"

Well, _now_ he did, but Alex pauses, forcing the thoughts away as he averted his eyes to focus on the car. That was what he was here for. A _car_.

He shrugs. Stuff’s his hands in his pockets and looks around, then back at the sales guy. This is definitely the car he wants, he’s done enough research he could probably write a pamphlet on the thing, but really, he should make sure. Really sure. He licks his lips, smiling up at the car guy.

“I’m pretty sure this is the one I want. Can I ask a few questions, though?”

“Of course, Mr….”

“Hamilton. Alexander. Or Alex. Whatever.”

The salesman smiles wider. “Alex. George Washington, it’s a pleasure.” He extends his hand and Alex takes it, and he tries not to think of how his palm fits so easily into George’s, tries to keep his heart from racing and hopes his face isn’t flushed. George’s hand is rough and callused, not at all what he would expect from some kind of rich asshole who hasn’t really worked too much in his life.

He steps back with a nod, peering at the car to avoid looking at George because his scumbag brain is thinking up all too many inappropriate things at this most inopportune moment.

You’re here for the car. The _car_ , he tells himself.

“Would you like to take it for a test drive? I can answer any concerns you have during that, and that way you get a feel for the way it rides.”

“The way it rides?” Alex asks and blinks once, or twice. “Oh yeah, that would be...yeah, definitely. I’ve heard nothing but good things.”

George nods, pushing himself to stand taller. He looks like he may be pushing 50, though Alex thinks he may even been closer to the mid-forties. He wonders if George played football, or lifted, because he has that open, muscular chest…

That Alex, as a consumer interested in buying a motor vehicle today, should not be focusing on rather than the relatively large purchase he will be making.

When George asks for his driver’s license and insurance card for the test drive, he hands it over without a sound and watches as George walks to the front desk for the keys, and then shakes his head, embarrassed.

God, he hated when he was like this.

* * *

 He gets home and throws his keys on the kitchen counter, a bag of groceries in his opposite arm. He'd found the car he'd wanted, the one he'd had in mind, and even though he'd been pre-approved for the meager loan he'd needed to make up the difference in what he put down in cash, apparently, the dealership had some more paperwork that needed to be worked out. The incredibly attractive salesman had apologized profusely, but had explained that this was par for the course. He told Alex he'd contact him later and set up a time, hopefully for later that night, to finalize the details.

His phone pings twice in a row and he glances down at it, distracted as he begins to put everything away. One from Gil, his current friends-with-benefits, and the other from the car salesman ( _George_ , he reminds himself). He saunters across the kitchen, thumbing his way into the phone to read it.

_I've a surprise for you tomorrow night, mon cher. You ready for me to fuck you til you walk sideways?_

He chuckles.

From George, it’s just a confirmation that the paperwork had gone through and a request that, although it would be late for such a thing, could they meet at 8:30 because he had some personal things to attend to earlier in the evening.

 _Sure, sounds great,_ he responds quickly, reaching into the threadbare bag for the milk. _See you then!_

Absently, he clicks on the text from Gil and with a grin, types out a quick, playful response.

_Thank you, daddy. Will you make me beg for it?_

He hits send without much thought.

He sets the phone down and focuses back on finishing up the last of the groceries, folding the reusable sacks and sliding them away so as not to leave a mess. He goes into his room to take off the tie and hang up his work clothes, slipping into a pair of gym shorts and a ratty t-shirt until he has to leave for the meeting later.

He is excited for the new car. And he feels so, weirdly, proud of himself. It wasn't as if he hadn't been doing well for himself the past few months---hell, he'd done well in law school, he'd been doing great at work, but there was something about finally being able to lock down the car he'd been drooling over for years that gave him a content feeling of accomplishment.

His phone pings once more from where it sits on the island and he grins again, anticipating something fun from Gil. Maybe a sneak at what was to come, some sort of hint. They weren't exclusive by any means, he was even relatively certain Gil had at least two others he regularly visited as well.

Maybe, Alex muses excitedly, maybe he'd invite one of them? Maybe that was that surprise? They'd discussed the possibility before, Gil knew he wasn't opposed...

He frowns when he see’s the reply.

 _That...was a little more tame than I expected,_ Gil wrote. _Casual isn't that great of a look on you, Alexander._

What...

And in that moment, horror washes over him as comprehension dawns. "Noooooo, no, no no, no....."

He thumbs into the phone so he can confirm, but his guts are already in washing machine mode once he reaches it.

 _HOW_ had this happened? His forehead breaks out into a sweat and he almost starts to hyperventilate. HOW how how how HOW...

But there it was, in his conversations. Lexus Guy. George.

_**Daddy** _

He was gonna throw up.

 _That wasn't meant for you!_ he types frantically, checking twice this time before he sends it.

No answer. Granted, he doesn’t wait more than a minute, but there is no _answer_ and everyone always has their phones on them.

_I'm so, so very sorry. I can go to another dealer, I am so, so sorry_

He presses the phone to his forehead, restraining himself from slamming his face against the kitchen counter. _Idiot!_ God this was, probably not the _most_ embarrassing thing that had happened to him, but oh god, it was close.

And George had been...

George had been attractive. And smelled really great. And Alex knew he'd smiled at him, and flirted with him a little bit, and oh fucking god, he probably thought....

His phone pings. He breathes in deep.

_It's alright. Please, don't, I have the paperwork all drawn up._

Another ping.

_Really, accidental texts happen more often than you think. It's really fine._

Alex sends back a simple “ok”, though everything is far from okay, but he figures he only has to get through an hour of awkward conversation and very minimal eye contact before he can grab his car and never talk to this guy again.

He shows up at the dealership a little early. Maybe they can get this wrapped up fast. Maybe he can avoid all eye contact and just give yes or no answers before sinking into the greatest pit of despair he can find right afterwards. In his brand new, sparkly navy blue ride, might he add.

At least something good would come of this outrageously stupendous fuck up.

It was only the two of him when he arrives, the only light in the showroom coming from George's office. The salesman greets him with an easy smile and a handshake and offers the seat across from him. His office is clean, not a single paper seemingly out of place. There are no photos of loved ones on his shelves, only what look to be sales awards from years past. George shakes his wrist, and Alex watches as his watch shines in the light. There's no ring.

Scumbag brain.

George has all of the forms ready, and he spins them so they’re facing Alex so he can read them, and he actually does, reads all of them carefully. He doesn't notice George watching him, almost amused. When he looks up finally, ready to sign, he blushes.

“Sorry,” he says with a shrug. “Lawyer.”

“No, it's alright. You should know what you're agreeing to.”

Once everything is signed, and the cashier’s check is passed over, George opens a drawer and pulls a key from it with a FREE KEYCHAIN attached, and Alex’s heart skips a beat.

He’s worked so hard. This has been the Thing he’s been wanting. And he knows it’s a tad douchey and materialistic, but in his whole time here, there’s been nothing of status he’s been able to achieve outright, completely on his own; not with the help from generous benefactors from home (college), not from well meaning mentors at work, but all of his own money and hard work, outright.

He reaches out slowly and takes the keys in his hand, turning them over. All _his_.

"Perhaps you want to step out onto the showroom floor and make sure that's the ride you want?" George suggests, arching a brow. Alexander forces himself to swallow again, forces a nod, forces himself to stop. sweating.

He’s being ridiculous, for pete’s sake.

"I am _really_ sorry for earlier," Alexander feels the need to say as they walk out to the showroom. George only chuckles in reply.

"It's okay," George reassures. "In fact..."

He trails off, and Alexander looks up at him sharply, drawing in a breath. George is smiling softly, hands stuffed into his pockets.

Alexander sidles up slowly, but bold. He lets his eyes drop to the dad like button down flannel George is wearing, tucked into his jeans like someone out of a JCrew catalog and swallows.

"I like your Sperrys."

What a dumb motherfucking thing to _say_.

George just laughs, quietly but with this rough quality to it that makes Alexander shiver and he leans up against the car he’d fallen in love with earlier---glittery, navy, sleek. He looks up at George through his lashes as he rests easy back on his hands and he shakes his head. “Sorry, that was…”

“Nice. It was nice.” George assures. He crosses his arms behind his back, and steps forward so he's closer to Alexander, close enough that Alex has the weird sensation of his personal space being invaded, but this time, in a way that was not entirely unwelcome. Alexander’s lips part, and he tilts his head up to look more intently at George.

They’re alone. No one else in the showroom. And sure, there are probably cameras. But...if anything---his eyes flicker back and forth for a moment---that just makes it more fun

He hears George take a breath and Alexander steps forward, settling his feet next to George’s, their chests almost touching. Alex licks his lips.

“Is there anything else you think you should show me?”

George cocks a brow, shrugging his shoulders as the corners of his lips twitch and Alex realizes he’s gonna have to make the first move if there is going to be a move. He’s about 99% sure they both want it to be. It makes sense really; George is the guy who works here, and the last thing he needs to worry about is a lawsuit because he misread some signals, so Alex, _being Alex_ , decides to take it upon himself and make it pretty fucking clear.

He leans in slowly, cautious. He tips his head back and begins at George’s jaw because, really, George has about 4 inches on him. Alex’s teeth graze where the skin is pulled taut over bone, and he feels as George shivers in response, barely any space between them. Alex stops, his nose resting just besides George’s ear, and he arches up, daring to nibble as softly as he can manage.

George growls. He steps forward, grabbing Alex’s biceps and pushing him back so that he’s pressed against the passenger side door. He kisses Alex, who arches as George continues on with attentions to Alex’s neck in kind; Alex hooks his thumbs around George’s belt loop, grasping tightly as he began to breath heavy.

George was...forceful. Strong. But somehow he fits with Alexander and he presses on, a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth before Alex reaches up to rest his hand on George’s arm as a signal to keep on going and soon they’re making out against the car he had just laid 30k down for in cash.

“You didn’t send that text earlier by accident, did you?”

“I did!” Alex gasps, insistent. “I really did, but I’m feeling pretty okay about it now.”

He feels George’s hand grab his face, tilting it up so Alex is look right at him and he is within centimeters, so close that Alex can feel the warmth of his breath. George examines him before speaking.

"Say it."

Alexander whines, breathless. "I barely even know you."

"Didn't stop you this afternoon."

"That really," Alex says pulling back with a gasp for air. "That text really wasn't meant for you."

"Ah well," George whispers with a smirk. "His loss, my gain." He presses his hips forward, pinning Alex to the car a little tighter. “Mr. Hamilton…”

Alex moans at that.

George’s hand travel down his body and Alexander pants in anticipation as George’s hands play at the buttons of his jeans. He lifts Alexander up so he's sitting on the hood and hitches his pants down so Alexander is only sitting in tented boxers, breathing heavy. Alex laughs.

“This one of your pristine sales techniques?”

George winks and grins. “If this is overly presumptive, please let me know.”

“Oh, no, i’m completely…” He releases a strangled breath as George’s hand finds it's way up the side of his inner thigh, knuckles brushing against his sack where it meets his body. “No, I’m great.”

George leans down, his breath at Alexander’s ear. “Good.”

He feels George’s hand slide up under his shirt as he traces the skin just above the elastic of his boxers. He squirms as George’s fingers graze along his hip and down until he swipes at Alex’s entrance with a finger, massaging at it gently, the sensation a tease as Alex tilts his head back with a stuttered noise from deep in his throat.

“A little soon for that,” George whispers. “Maybe some other time?”

Alex let’s out a hysterical, small noise. “Oh my god, what is _happening_ …”

George pulls back, brows furrowed. “Wait. Are you okay? You seemed like this was okay…”

“Don’t fucking stop!”

George hits the floor, grabbing onto Alex’s ankles and sliding him forward from where he sits on the hood of the car, just so his shoes are brushing the tiled floor. He rests his hands on Alex’s thighs, his fingers splayed to cover each and he flexes, drawing a soft sound from Alex’s parted lips. He grabs at the hem of Alex’s boxers and tugs them down; Alex’s cock bobs free, already hard and leaking, and George pulls him to stand, grabbing onto his ass to pull Alex in.

Alex is, actually, not quite sure this is really happening. Did he fall asleep? Is he really just passed out right now on his couch at home in his gym shorts and ratty t-shirt, is this some kind of Bob Newhart bullshit?

There’s no sign of life outside the floor to glass window and he’s whimpering as George works his cock, hollowing out his cheeks before pulling back to let his lips work at the tip while his free hand works at Alex’s stones. He presses his hands against the cool of the car’s side, because he’s still leaning on it, and somewhere distant, he wonders if there’ll be a sweaty, fogged outline of where his ass is pressed against the wheel rim.

God, he hopes he doesn’t scratch it before he gets it off the lot.

George does something with his lips and fingers that refocuses Alex’s attention. As his head swims, he places a hand on the back of George’s head, careful not to be douchey about it and pulls him in. He just contents himself to watch as George works, smacking and making noises, the occasional hum of contentment sending sensations down to his toes.

 _Fuck_ , he hopes he’s not that close already.

He brushes a thumb over the back of George’s head and the salesman looks up at him through watery eyes. He can see where George kneels, sees how his thighs are pulling his pants tight enough to burst, and he thinks, _god, they’re twice the size of mine_ , and he wonders what kind of force they must generate. His mind pictures himself bent over his bed in his apartment as George grapples with his hair and pushes him down, and…

Alex gasps aloud and runs one hand into his hair as he uses the other to frantically pat at George’s shoulder to warn him because, well, they really don’t even know each other, and this is just, _this is just crazy,_ and of course he would want to know, of course he would want to…

But nope. Rather, George seems encouraged by taps, and Alex feels both the man’s hands again at his hips, pulling him closer, grasping at his flesh. George picks up his pace, slurping and smacking as he takes Alex deeper, hitting the back of his throat until….

Alex comes with a shout and pitches forward, catching himself on George’s shoulder. George takes everything, not even moving until Alex is spent, gasping for air, unable to move where he leans against George.

As Alex catches his breath, he feels George’s hands come up to grab his wrists and help steady him, and he doesn’t rise until he’s sure Alex is sound on his feet. He only lets go as Alex bends to hike his pants up and rebuckle his jeans, before leaning back on the windshield with a dumbstruck look on his face.

“Well,” he manages between breaths, crossing his arms behind his head and looks up with a sly smile at George, who is busy adjusting himself accordingly. He pats the car. “I guess I’ll take this one.”

He sits up and pulls himself so he’s fully standing (a little unsteady, and Alex can see George grin). He strolls over and prepares himself to eagerly return the favor, but George shakes his head with a chuckle and steps back, knocking his hands way.

"Mr. Hamilton, really, please, it's alright."

"My name is Alex.” He corrects; it's weird that the guy who’d just had his dick in his mouth was addressing him so formally. “And all jokes aside, that's not really the service I meant, and I don't like being greedy or selfish..." He finishes, reaching once more for the other man’s belt.

George grabbed his wrist gently, holding it in place. "Then how about you make it even by taking me to dinner in your brand new Lexus?"

Alexander gapes at him. "That...is a great line."

George grins, leaning close to his face and whispering in his ear. "I manage."

Alexander picks him up in it a week later for their first dinner date. George laughs, and nicknames it Blueskin; an old pet, George tells him.

It won’t be their last.


End file.
